


Faithfully

by Salmon_Pink



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-01
Updated: 2012-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-30 11:51:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/331466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salmon_Pink/pseuds/Salmon_Pink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another lazy afternoon, sharing jokes, fears, strength and that little bit more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faithfully

**Author's Note:**

> Set during _The Order Of The Phoenix_. Written for [10 Whores](http://10-whores.livejournal.com/), prompt "Pandora's box".

Ginny was lying across her bed, lazily watching specks of dust swirl through the air in the weak light slipping around the edges of the deep red curtains, when Harry Potter walked through the door.

He looked so casual, strolling into her room, and he was smiling in an easy sort of way that Ginny felt like she hadn’t seen in forever. It had been a long summer, and after what had happened in the Triwizard Tournament she’d almost gotten used to seeing the grim set of his jaw, the averted eyes, so the offhand grin took her by almost as much surprise as his very presence.

She sat bolt upright, staring in shock, as he perched on the edge of her bed as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Only it wasn’t, not at all, and Harry was supposed to be at his relatives, and he wasn’t even supposed to know Number Twelve Grimmauld Place existed. He certainly wasn’t supposed to be _winking_ at her, and Ginny narrowed her eyes and studied him.

His face seemed a little more round than she was used to, and it was entirely possible that he’d just eaten a few decent meals since she’d seen him last, but she’d heard the stories about his aunt and uncle and highly doubted it.

There was also the fact that he was clearly growing more and more nervous under her glare, shifting uncomfortably, the slightest sheen of sweat forming on his brow.

“That’s not funny, Tonks,” Ginny muttered, and she watched the not-really-Harry give a deep sigh, as if he’d been holding his breath.

It was always quick, but Ginny’s eyes followed the transformation with interest. Skin growing paler, chin growing softer. Hair growing just a touch longer, black morphing into a bright shade of pink. Green eyes darkening, lips growing fuller.

Over in seconds, but it was always fascinating to watch, and then there was just Tonks, scratching the back of her neck and looking a little sheepish.

“Sorry, guess I didn’t get it quite right,” she said with an embarrassed smile. “The twins said you usually perk up when you see him.”

Ginny shrugged and folded her legs in front of her. “Maybe I do cheer up when I see Harry,” she said, voice a little haughty. “But I think I can tell the difference between him and some _impostor_.”

“Impostor?” Tonks gasped, hand flying to her chest. “You, sir, have offended me!”

“And you, sir, are no gentleman,” Ginny shot back, nose in the air, and for a full ten seconds a sense of moral outrage permeated the room, before Tonks broke the spell by laughing and flopping back against the bed.

Spending her summer cooped up in the Noble and Most Boring House of Black hadn’t exactly been a picnic, but spending time with Tonks, joking and playing and trying to trick information out of her, had become Ginny’s favourite pastime. Tonks was easy to talk to, easy to be with, and she knew what it was like to be the youngest in a large group, knew what it was like to have to struggle every day just to prove your worth. 

“Why’re you sulking in here anyway?” Tonks asked, stretching back across the bed, arms over her head.

“Not sulking,” Ginny replied automatically. “Just bored.”

It wasn’t strictly true, unfortunately. She had been bored when she’d first retreated to her makeshift bedroom, but she’d quickly become lost in her own thoughts. 

She was worried, they all were, she could see it in the lines around her parents’ eyes. He Who Must Not Be Named was back, Harry had seen him, and just to imagine it was enough to have Ginny breaking out in a cold sweat. She could still remember his voice whispering to her as if it was yesterday, Tom Riddle’s clever words calling out to her, and the idea of the real Riddle, flesh and blood, no longer a memory, terrified in a way she couldn’t tell anyone.

She would be strong, of course, her whole family was strong, and she would help wherever she could. Still, she couldn’t stop the way her mind seemed content to dwell on the past, on the fear. Sometimes she felt as if there was nobody she could talk to about it. The adults, her parents and Professor Lupin and Sirius, those who’d experienced the first coming of He Who Must Not Be Named were too busy, and Ginny didn’t want to get in their way, even though she knew they’d listen. 

The only person her own age who’d ever had any kind of experience with He Who Must Not Be Named was Harry, and she’d seen how distant he’d grown after Cedric’s death, and she was more scared than she cared to admit what he’d be like after a whole summer on his own.

“You look like you’re sulking,” Tonks said lightly, but there was something about her voice that hinted that she knew it wasn’t true. “Something you want to talk about?”

“Not really,” Ginny replied, and she knew Tonks wouldn’t push her any further, and that could have been the end of it. Except she didn’t want it to be, she wanted to talk about it, and Tonks was there for her, and she’d never judge. 

“It’s just,” Ginny began tentatively, trying not to let too much emotion creep into her voice. “Sometimes it’s a bit much, isn’t it?”

She watched Tonks closely, saw the flicker of her eyes, and it occurred to her that maybe Tonks would understand what she was trying to say better than anyone who had faced He Who Must Not Be Named ever could. After all, Tonks was preparing to go into war, and she didn’t have experience on her side, not like the other members of the Order. She must have been scared, she must have felt alone, and Ginny suddenly regretted bringing up the topic.

“Never mind,” she shrugged, voice purposefully airy. “Fancy seeing what Fred and George are up to?”

Tonks was staring up at the ceiling with an intent look on her face that Ginny didn’t recognise on her. “It can be a bit much,” she said quietly, sounding lost in thought. “You think you’re ready for it, but that first glimpse of death?” She shook her head, hair brushing over the blankets. “Cedric Diggory, he was a Hufflepuff, you know? Of course you know.”

Ginny swallowed thickly, but didn’t say anything as Tonks sighed, looking more serious than Ginny had ever seen her. 

“It’s messed up, it’s _scary_ , and it’s a lot to take in,” Tonks murmured. “There’s no preparing for it, because you don’t really know what’s coming. But that’s okay, because neither does the enemy. You just have to do what you can, be with who you need to be with and, above all, you need to have _hope_.”

There was a familiar glow in her eyes, only it was burning brighter than ever, and Ginny wasn’t really thinking when she leaned forwards, hands bracing against the mattress, and she pressed her lips against Tonks’ mouth.

It was kind of strange, softer than kissing a boy, although that might have been because Tonks wasn’t reacting with the incredible enthusiasm Ginny usually associated with boys and kissing. She was reacting, though, lips moving under Ginny’s own, sweet and gentle and kind of perfect in a way Ginny had never considered, before she made the softest sound of surprise, as if she’d only just realised what was happening.

Ginny pulled back, smiling to herself, and Tonks was staring up at her, her eyes wide and a blush rapidly blooming across her cheeks, and her hair had turned the same fiery shade of red as Ginny’s own.

“Thanks,” Ginny said, suddenly feeling much lighter than she had a few minutes ago. 

“Uh, you’re welcome,” Tonks stammered, and she was still gaping at her in a way that made Ginny want to laugh, and maybe kiss her again, but she settled for falling back against the pillows, grinning broadly because, despite it all, Ginny _did_ have hope, and it suddenly felt like the most powerful thing in the world.


End file.
